


The Seven Ages of Frodo

by Telstar (Altopiano)



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altopiano/pseuds/Telstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments from Frodo's life, told in seven drabbles. Or rather, six drabbles plus a drabble-and-a-bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seven Ages of Frodo

**Author's Note:**

> The "mature" rating applies only to the fifth drabble. The rest are either "general" or "teen and up".
> 
> The sixth drabble owes much to the words of the song _Use Well the Days_ , written by Howard Shore and sung by Annie Lennox

##### Twelve

Surely they’d be back soon. He’d finished his tea ages ago, in the nursery with the faunts, _ages_ ago. And the Brandy Hall lamps were being lit, the littlest ones were in bed, the grownups gathering for Big Tea. Sometimes now, he was allowed to join them. He _thought_ he’d been good enough today, though there _had_ been that incident with the beetle... But tea was starting, and they were _late_! Trust parents to keep you waiting when you’re hungry.

The dusk deepened; distant sounds of tea, of adult laughter and conversation, drifted in, unheard.

Surely they’d be back soon. __

~~~

##### Seventeen

Running, running, always running. Buckland couldn’t hold him, the whole Shire, maybe, wasn’t big enough. Could there be adventure enough in the whole of Middle Earth to tame him? Sometimes he thought if he could only run fast enough his spirit would take flight and soar away, never to return; like a dragon that has woken from a long sleep. But there were no dragons any more, nor even those who could tell their tales.

Thinking, thinking, always thinking...

A shadow fell across his face. He looked up into the sun.

“Good afternoon to you. Bilbo Baggins at your service.”

~~~

##### Twenty eight

When Sam was little, we would play hide and seek in the garden. It never lasted long – he delighted more in being found than in hiding. I would turn a corner, and he’d be there, giggling and joyous at our meeting.

He isn’t little any more, and we no longer play, these days. The giggling, wriggling boy has turned bashful and awkward. Often I turn a corner and he’s there; and I try to back away before he sees me (but he always does see me). I feel his shy glance, and something that has been sleeping within me stirs.

~~~

##### Forty four

There’s a crowd at the Dragon tonight. Sam’s well-liked, and he’s getting a proper “send off” on the occasion of his coming of age. There he is, well into his umpteenth ale by the look of him. 

This mathom he made for me - a heavy stone carved and shaped like a sleeping dragon. To hold my papers down, he said, when that unexpected breeze comes to send them flying. The weight of it when he put it into my hand was somehow familiar and reassuring, like his solid presence in my heart.

Sam. Untouched, innocent of my dragon’s flame. 

~~~

##### Fifty

You’re asleep now, Master, and I can think. I can watch out for that Gollum, and think about it, what we’ve done. Who’d’ve thought it would happen, at last, here, in this forsaken land, at this desperate time.

_At first, it seemed like nothing much; only warmth and comfort, given and taken. (Eru knows, we sorely needed both.) But somehow the chafing and rubbing became stroking, and then it became exciting. And then you rolled me on top, and it became pushing and thrusting, with britches undone and all. And all the while you looked and looked at me and made no sound, not until your eyes fluttered closed and you breathed my name over and over, and then I was in my own starglass, brighter even than the Lady Galadriel’s, and more piercing. And it was done._

It was done, such a small thing, that could have been a beginning but instead comes at the end. So you sleep now, Master, and I’ll keep watch. In the shadow of the Fiery Mountain, I’ll keep watch until the end.

~~~

##### Fifty two

To me it feels more like falling asleep again. My day is done, the shadows lengthen before me. In the end, I could never run fast enough, and now it doesn’t matter any more. I must leave.

I must leave the green world, Sam, I must cross the Sea. My day is done, and after day follows night, the longest night I think I shall ever know. But after all your day has come, and I know you will use it well.

And when I think of you, night too shall be beautiful and blessed, and its fear will pass.

~~~

##### Beyond Reckoning

Surely he would come soon. Long years had passed since that journey across the Sea, long ages ago it seemed. 

The lights of Avallónë were being lit, Elves were gathering to share an evening meal. Often he would join them, but he’d had enough, today. Tonight he felt unlocated, incidental, he belonged with the droning beetles, now starting their late song. And he was not hungry; he was full with waiting, with waiting, and trusting.

Dusk deepened; distant sounds of the Sea, over Elvish laughter and conversation that went unheard, drifted in on the night.

Surely he would come soon.


End file.
